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John of Damascus
 Texts and Studies
in Eastern Christianity

Chief Editor

Ken Parry (Macquarie University)

Editorial Board

Alessandro Bausi (University of Hamburg) – Monica Blanchard

(Catholic University of America) – Malcolm Choat (Macquarie University)
Peter Galadza (Saint Paul University) – Victor Ghica (mf Norwegian School
of Theology, Religion and Society) – Emma Loosley (University of Exeter)
Basil Lourié (St Petersburg) – John McGuckin (Columbia
University) – Stephen Rapp (Sam Houston State University)
Dietmar W. Winkler (University of Salzburg)

volume 26

Texts and Studies in Eastern Christianity is intended to advance the field of Eastern Christian
Studies by publishing translations of ancient texts, individual monographs, thematic collections,
and translations into English of significant volumes in modern languages. It will cover the
Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic traditions from the early through
to the contemporary period. The series will make a valuable contribution to the study of Eastern
Christianity by publishing research by scholars from a variety of disciplines and backgrounds.
The different traditions that make up the world of Eastern Christianity have not always received
the attention they deserve, so this series will provide a platform for deepening our knowledge of
them as well as bringing them to a wider audience. The need for such a series has been felt for
sometime by the scholarly community in view of the increasing interest in the Christian East.

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/tsec

John of Damascus
More Than a Compiler

Edited by

Scott Ables

leiden | boston
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at https://catalog.loc.gov
lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022050940

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface.

issn 2213-0039
isbn 978-90-04-52642-6 (hardback)
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Copyright 2023 by Scott Ables. Published by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands.
Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink,
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For Karen

∵
Contents

Preface ix
List of Maps and Figures x
Abbreviations xi
Notes on Contributors xiv
Maps xvii

Introduction 1
Scott Ables

part 1
The Damascene’s Sources, Life, & Context

1 The Greek Lives of St John Damascene: Common Information,

Differences, and Historical Value 17
Robert Volk

2 New Evidence for the Source of the Arabic Life of John Damascene
and the Arabic Translation of the Expositio fidei 40
Habib Ibrahim

3 The Purpose of the Anti-Manichaean Polemic of John of Damascus 65

Scott Ables

4 ‘Ὡς θεῖος ἔφη Διονύσιος’—John Damascene’s Reception and

Interpretation of the Corpus Areopagiticum 86
Vassilis Adrahtas

5 The Ordering of Knowing and the Acquisition of Knowledge

in the Expositio fidei 106
Peter Schadler

6 ‘Supposedly Encountered an Arian Monk’: John of Damascus

on the Origin of Islam 116
Najib George Awad
viii contents

7 Theology for the Public: Aspects of John of Damascus’ Theological

Discourse in His Homilies 133
Petros Tsagkaropoulos

part 2
The Damascene’s Theological Vision

8 The Understanding of the Sacraments in John of Damascus’

Theology 153
Vassa Kontouma

9 Imago Dei: The Functionality of the Divine Image in John

of Damascus 172
Brenda Mariana Méndez-Gallardo

10 The Concept of Matter in St John Damascene’s Anti-Manichaean

Theology of Creation 189
Theocharis S. Papavissarion

11 Philosophy as Both an Instrument and a Structural Principle

of Theological Discourse in John Damascene 208
Anna Zhyrkova

12 John of Damascus’ View of Universals and Particulars in Light

of the Christological Debate 223
Johannes Zachhuber

13 The Historicity of Personal Being: A Dialogue in Absentia between John

Damascene and Martin Heidegger 240
Smilen Markov

Appendix: Expositio et declaratio fidei cpg 8078: Introduction

and English Translation 255
Habib Ibrahim
Index of Modern Authors 272
Index of Names and Subjects 275
Index of Ancient Sources 278
Preface

In 2009 I contacted Vassa Kontouma after reading her 1995 article on Ps. Cyril
of Alexandria.1 Leonard Prestige had argued that Ps. Cyril was the 6th century
theologian who migrated the Christological term perichōrēsis into Trinitarian
thought, which was subsequently adopted by John of Damascus.2 However,
Kontouma argued that Ps. Cyril was not a source of John but a compilation of
John, so it was John himself who was responsible for Trinitarian perichōrēsis.3 I
met Kontouma in Paris (2010) and Oxford (2015) to discuss John. Aware of her
interest in nurturing a growing network of scholars on John, despite her long
habit of summering in Greece, in 2018 I persuaded her to participate in a work-
shop on John the following summer. Kontouma won key financial support from
Labex resmed (Religions and Societies of the Mediterranean World). Zachary
Keith, whom I met through Sidney Griffith while at Dumbarton Oaks in spring
2015, agreed to help as well. With their help the John of Damascus: More than
a Compiler workshop met at the xviii International Conference of Patristic
Studies, Oxford, 20–21 August 2019. It only remains for me to thank Ken Parry
and members of the editorial board of Brill’s Texts and Studies in Eastern Chris-
tianity for accepting this volume in the series.

Scott Ables
Portland, Oregon, USA

1 Vassa Conticello (1995) ‘Pseudo-Cyril’s De ss. Trinitate: A Compilation of Joseph the Philoso-
pher’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 61: 117–129. Republished in Vassa Kontouma (2015): John
of Damascus: New Studies on his Life and Works (Farnham, Surrey/Burlington, VT: Ashgate).
2 G.L. Prestige (1964) God in Patristic Thought (2nd edn.; London: spck): 284, 291, 294–299.
3 Conticello (1995): 125. See also Andrew Louth’s assessment of Kontouma’s analysis, ‘her argu-
ments seem to me absolutely compelling’ in Andrew Louth (2002) St. John Damascene: Tra-
dition and Originality in Byzantine Theology (Oxford: oup), 87.
Maps, Figures, and Tables

Maps

1 Near East after the Islamic Conquest (L) xviii

2 Near East after the Islamic Conquest (R) xix
3 Northern Syria, Cilicia, and Cyprus xx
4 Lebanon and southern Syria xx
5 Egypt and Palestine xxi
6 Locations of Manichaean Sites, Texts, or Polemicists 70

Figures

1 Terminology: General correspondances in chs. 81–86 (English) 159

2 Terminology: General correspondances in chs. 81–86 (Greek) 159
3 Adoption as presented in ch. 81 160
4 Adoption by grace according to ch. 82 161
5 Complements brought by ch. 83 162
6 Cross as praxis and logos according to chs. 82 and 83 164
7 Mysteria according to ch. 86 166

Tables

1 Significant Manichaean Dates 66

2 Christian Anti-Manichaean Polemic 68
3 The development of the modes of reception of the ca by the Damascene 102
Abbreviations

Works of John of Damascus

John of Damascus, eds. Bonifatius Kotter, Robert. Volk, et al., Die Schriften des
Johannes von Damaskos, 8 Vols. (pts 7; 12; 17; 22; 29; 60–66/1; 68; 74–78; Berlin:
De Gruyter, 7:1969, 12:1973, 17:1975, 22:1981, 29:1988, 60(6/1):2006, 61(6/1):2009,
68:2013, 74–77:2018, 78:2019).

Aceph. De natura composita contra acephalos. On the Composite Nature, Against

the Acephali (cpg 8051): Kotter iv [pts 22], 409–417.
Barlaam Historia animae utilis de Barlaam et Ioasaph. The Story of the Practical
Life of Barlaam and Joseph (cpg 8120): Volk vi i/ii [pts 60–61], ii:1–406.
Barb. Laudatio s. Barbarae. Praise of St Barbara (cpg 8065): Kotter v [pts 29],
256–278.
Chrys. Laudatio s. Johannis Chrysostomi (cpg 8064): Kotter v [pts 29], 359–370.
Dial. Capita philosophica (Dialectica). (cpg 8041): Kotter i [pts 7], 47–146.
Dorm. i–iii In dormitionem orationes tres (cpg 8061–8063): Kotter v [pts 29], 483–
500, 516–540, 548–555.
Expos. Expositio fidei. On the Orthodox Faith (cpg 8043): Kotter ii [pts 12], 7–239.
Ficus Homilia in ficum arefactam. Homily on the Fig-Tree (cpg 8058): Kotter v
[pts 29], 102–110.
Fides De fide contra Nestorianos. On the Faith, Against the Nestorians
(cpg 8054): Kotter iv [pts 22], 238–253.
Haeres. Liber de haeresibus. On Heresies (cpg 8044): Kotter iv [pts 22], 19–67.
Hypap. Sermo in hypapanten Domini. Homily on the Meeting of the Lord
(cpg 8066): Kotter v [pts 29], 381–395.
Ieiun. De sacris ieiuniis. On the Holy Fasts (cpg 8050): pg 95, col. 64–77.
Imag. i–iii Contra imaginum calumniatores orationes tres. Three Treatises Against
Those Who Attack the Icons (cpg 8045): Kotter iii [pts 17], 65–200. [aka
On Images, thus the abbr. Imag.]
Instit. Institutio elementaris. Elementary Introduction (cpg 8040): Kotter i
[pts 7], 19–26.
Jacob. Contra Jacobitas. Against the Jacobites (cpg 8047): Kotter iv [pts 22], 109–
153.
Manich. Contra Manichaeos. Against the Manichaeans=Dialog against the Mani-
chaeans (cpg 8048): Kotter iv [pts 22], 351–398.
Nestor. Adversos Nestorianos. Against the Nestorians (cpg 8053): Kotter iv
[pts 22], 263–288.
xii abbreviations

Parall. 4–5 Sacra (spuria) (cpg 8056): Tobias Thum and José Declerck viii/4–8
[pts 74–78]. Parall. or Hiera See also, Sacra parallela. Hiera. (cpg 8056):
pg 95, col. 1040–588, 96 col. 9–442.
Paul Commentarii in epistulas Pauli. Commentary on the Epistles of Paul
(cpg 8079): Volk vii [pts 68], 21–538.
Rect. De recta sententia liber. On Right Thinking (cpg 8046): pg 94, 1421–1432.
[nb: Kotter abbreviates Sentent.]
Sabbat. Homilia in sabbatum sanctum. Homily for Holy Saturday (cpg 8059): Kot-
ter v [pts 29], 121–146.
Sarac. Disputatio Saraceni et Christiani. Dispute between a Saracen and a Chris-
tian (cpg 8075): Kotter iv [pts 22], 427–438.
Transfig. Homilia in transfigurationem domini. Homily on the Transfiguration of the
Lord (cpg 8057): Kotter v [pts 29], 436–459.
Trisag. Epistula de hymno Trisagio. Letter on the Trisagion Hymn (cpg 8049): Kot-
ter iv [pts 22], 304–332.
Volunt. De duabus in Christo voluntatibus. On the Two Wills in Christ (cpg 8052):
Kotter iv [pts 22], 173–231.

Other Abbreviations

aw Athanasius Werke
bhg Bibliotheca hagiographica graeca, 3rd ed., 3 vols., ed. François Halkin, Sub-
sidia Hagiographica 8a (Brussels: 1957)
bz Byzantinische Zeitschrift (Munich/Leipzig, 1892–)
ccsg Corpus christianorum series graeca
cpg Clavis patrum graecorum, 7 Vols. (Turnhout: Brepols, 1974–2010)
csco Corpus scriptorum christianorum orientalium
cshb Corpus scriptorum historiae byzantinae (Bonn, 1828–1897)
gcs Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten [drei] Jahrhunderte
gno Gregorii Nysseni opera
jecs Journal of Early Christian Studies
jts Journal of Theological Studies
Lampe Lampe, G.W. H., Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995).
msr Mélanges de science réligieuse
gcs nf Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte,
publ. Berlin—Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Berlin.
Neue Folge 1 (1995)
ocp Orientalia christiana periodica
oup Oxford University Press
abbreviations xiii

pg Patrologia graeca. Ed. Jacques-Paul Migne. 162 vols. (Paris: 1857–1866).

pl Patrologia latina. Ed. Jacques-Paul Migne. 217 vols. (Paris: 1844–1864).
pmbz Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit, Abt. 1 (641–867), 6 vols. (de
Gruyter: Berlin, 1999–2002)
pts Patristiche Texte und Studien
sc Sources chrétiennes
spb Studia patristica et byzantina (Etall: Buch-Kunstverlag)
StP Studia patristica
tu Teste und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur
tlg Thesaurus linguae graecae: A Digital Library of Greek Literature
VigChr Vigiliae christianae
ZKg Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte
Notes on Contributors

Scott Ables
Lecturer, Oregon State University, DPhil (2016, Oxford, ‘The Purpose of Peri-
chōrēsis in the Polemical Works of John of Damascus’). He researches the his-
tory of Christological controversy in Late Antiquity but has interests in post-
modern constructive theology as well.

Vassilis Adrahtas
University of Western Sydney, Australia, teaches Islamic Studies. His special-
ization and research include Early Christianity, Patristics, Byzantine Philoso-
phy, Ancient Greek Religion, and Indigenous Australian Religions. His involve-
ment with the study of John Damascene goes back to his MPhil thesis ‘The
Use of Logic in the Work of John Damascene: Approaches to Fons Scientiae’
(2001).

Najib George Awad

Professor of Christian theology and Eastern Christian thought, Hartford Sem-
inary, ct usa. His research interests include Arabic Christianity, Christian-
Muslim relations, comparative, interreligious and contextual theologies, and
the Contemporary Middle East. He publishes in both Arabic and English, in-
cluding Umayyad Christianity: John of Damascus as a contextual example of
identity formation in Early Islam (2018); and After-Mission, Beyond Evangeli-
calism: The Indigenous ‘Injīliyyūn’ in the Arab-Muslim Context of Syria-Lebanon
(2020).

Habib Ibrahim
PhD (2016, ephe-Paris, ‘Jean Damascène arabe: édition critique des deux traités
Contre les Nestoriens’). He is a research associate at the University St Joseph—
Beirut and Assistant Professor at Lebanese University. He wrote his thesis on
John of Damascus’ two treatises against the Nestorians. He works on different
projects connected to the study of Christian Arabic literature.

Vassa Kontouma
Dean, Religious Studies, École Pratique des Hautes Études, psl, Paris, France,
and Présidente de l’Institut français d’Études byzantines. PhD (1996, Paris-4
Sorbonne) thesis: ‘La “Source de connaissance” de S. Jean Damascène: traduc-
tion annotée des livres i (Dialectica) et iii (Expositio de fide orthodoxa).’ She
researches John of Damascus, Byzantine and Post-Byzantine theology, Ortho-
notes on contributors xv

dox dogmatic, Post-Byzantine manuscripts, Dositheus ii of Jerusalem, and the

Greek Diaspora in Ottoman times.

Smilen Markov
Assistant Professor in Christian Philosophy, University of Veliko Turnovo, Bul-
garia. PhD (University of Cologne, 2010), thesis: ‘The Metaphysical Synthesis
of John Damascene: historical interconnections and structural transforma-
tions’, published as Die metaphysische Synthese des Johannes von Damaskus:
Historische Zusammenhänge und Strukturtransformationen, Brill, 2015. His re-
search interests include Byzantine philosophy, Orthodox theology, dialogue
between Byzantium and Islam, and urbanism.

Brenda Mariana Méndez-Gallardo

Professor of Medieval Philosophy and Philosophy of Religion, Jesuit Ibero-
American University, Mexico City and Western Institute of Technology and
Higher Studies, Guadalajara, Mexico. She researches patristic, ancient and
medieval philosophy; the philosophy of art and aesthetics (with particular
interest in spiritual thought in the visual arts); aesthetic and apophatic the-
ology, and the philosophy of religion. She recently published La visión de lo
invisible. El concepto de imagen en la Expositio fidei de Juan Damasceno (2020).

Theocharis S. Papavissarion
National & Kapodistrian University of Athens. PhD (Athens, 2019), thesis: ‘St
John Damascene’s Teaching on Matter. The Ktisiological Foundation of his
Anti-Manichaean Theology’. He is an Orthodox theologian specializing in pa-
tristics. He focuses on John Damascene, the continuity of the ecclesiastic tra-
dition, and Manichaean and Byzantine theology and philosophy. He has pub-
lished articles in encyclopedias and journals examining certain subjects of
patristic literature.

Peter Schadler
Assistant Professor, Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, USA. DPhil (Ox-
ford, 2011), which formed the basis of his recent book: John of Damascus
and Islam: Christian Heresiology and the Intellectual Background to Earliest
Christian-Muslim Relations (Brill, 2018). He is currently researching the narra-
tology in hagiography and storytelling in Byzantium and beyond.

Petros Tsagkaropoulos
Kings College London, England. PhD (King’s, London, 2019), thesis: ‘The Hagio-
graphic Homilies of John of Damascus: A Study in Byzantine Homiletics’. His
xvi notes on contributors

research specializes in Byzantine literature and history, including literary anal-

ysis and interdisciplinary hermeneutical approaches through insightfully de-
veloping new research methods.

Robert Volk
Bavarian Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Munich. DrPhil (Munich,
1987), thesis: ‘Der medizinische Inhalt der Schriften des Michael Psellos’, pub-
lished under the same title (Munich: 1990). His research is centered on the
philology and publication of the writings of John of Damascus. He is currently
preparing the publication of several of the many Lives of St John Damascene.

Johannes Zachhuber
Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology, University of Oxford. He has
published widely on Eastern patristic thought including Human Nature in Gre-
gory of Nyssa: Philosophical Background and Theological Significance (1999) and
The Rise of Christian Theology and the End of Ancient Metaphysics: Patristic Phi-
losophy from the Cappadocian Fathers to John of Damascus (2020).

Anna Zhyrkova
Jesuit University Ignatianum, Cracow, Poland. PhD (Catholic University, Lub-
lin, 2002), thesis: ‘Philosophy of John Damascene in the Light of the “Pege
Gnoseos”’. Her research interests center on Byzantine philosophy and Patristic
theology.
Maps

Acknowledgement

The maps were originally produced by David A. Michelson, map editor, and
Ian Mladjou, cartographer, for The Syriac World, Daniel King, ed. (Routledge,
2019). The five maps presented here are a subset of fourteen maps originally
produced. Michelson provides an excellent discussion of the data as well as
pointers to Internet based resources with bibliography (The Syriac World, xxvii–
xxxiii). Michelson graciously provided our project with the maps under a cre-
ative commons license, and we have chosen to present the five that cover Syria,
Palestine, and the Egyptian territory most germane to the study of John of Dam-
ascus.
Maps 1–5 Copyright cc by-sa
xviii maps

map 1 Near East after the Islamic Conquest (L)

maps xix

map 2 Near East after the Islamic Conquest (R)

 xx maps

map 3 Northern Syria, Cilicia, and Cyprus

map 4 Lebanon & southern Syria

Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 CHAPTER VI
THE GOSPEL OF DISCONTENT
SAUL TRESITHNY was in a restless and disturbed frame of mind
just now. He did not himself know what was creeping over him, but
he had been for some time now experiencing a change of feeling,—a
sense of weariness and disgust with his daily toil, with the people
about him, with the world in general, that he had never felt before,
and which perplexed him not a little.
A few weeks earlier, when this state had first assailed him, he
believed it to be the outcome of his growing affection for Genefer, the
farmer’s daughter, and thought, if he could but assure himself that
his affection was returned, he should be himself once more; but in
this conjecture he had not proved right. Genefer had admitted her
preference for him; they held stolen interviews at all manner of times
in and about the farm; she took care that his material comforts were
greater than they had ever been before, and he could (if he chose)
look forward to settling in life at no very distant date with a wife and
home of his own. And yet he was not happy—he was more restless
and discontented than ever in his life before.
Was it the monotony of farm labour that was the cause of this? Of
course Saul and those about him had long known that he could do
much better for himself if he wished. His grandfather had always told
him that there was a home open to him in his comfortable cottage if
he ever chose to avail himself of it, and that a wife of his would be
warmly welcomed to make the home bright and cheerful for them
both. He knew that the Duke would at any time give him employment
in his stables, for Saul had a knack with horses that was well known
all through the neighbourhood, and often caused him to be
summoned to look at some refractory animal, and assist in the task
of breaking him. Mr. St. Aubyn had more than once offered him the
post of “odd man” at the rectory, where his one servant kept the
flower garden and looked after the one stout cob which the Rector
rode on his parish rounds, and had a comfortable little cottage at the
gates for his home. But for some unexplained reason Saul had
always declined these chances of bettering himself, and remained
obstinately at his ill-paid farm work, greatly to the satisfaction of the
farmer, who had never had so good an all-round man before, and
who always treated Saul with consideration and affability,
recognising qualities in him that he would have been loth to part with.
But perhaps no man of latent talent and energy is really content long
together in a life that gives no scope for the exercise of his higher
powers. Possibly it was merely this sense of constraint and
uselessness which was at the bottom of Saul’s inexplicable and little
understood depression. However that maybe, he had certainly taken
to a mood of sullen brooding, which could hardly be dignified by the
name of thought. He avoided his grandfather’s cottage on Sunday,
preferring to work off his oppression by taking long walks across the
cliffs; often finding himself in the little town of Pentreath before he
was ready for a halt; and it was in this place that he first began to
know and hear something of the questions of the day that were
stirring in the great world around his humble home.
Newspapers never found their way to St. Bride’s, save to the castle;
but Saul had formed the acquaintance of a cobbler in Pentreath, who
was an ardent politician in his own way, and, with the natural and
unexplained bias of his class, was a red-hot Radical to boot, and
loved nothing so well as to inveigh with untrained and perfervid
eloquence against the evils of the day—the oppression and misery
of the poor, the tyranny and licentiousness, the cruelty and
selfishness, of the rich. He prognosticated a day when there should
be a general upheaval and turning of the tables, when every man
should have his “rights,” and the tyrants of the earth should quake
and tremble before their outraged slaves, as had been the case in
France but a generation ago—the fearful story of which was well
known to him, and over which he gloated with eager delight, even in
its most ghastly details.
With this man we have no concern in these pages. He was one of
that class of demagogues and agitators which was arising in
England, and has flourished there to a greater or less extent ever
since. Hundreds and thousands of these men were too obscure and
too ignorant ever to make a name in the world, but they acted on the
ignorant people about them as the leaven in the pan, and did much
to bring about the state of general discontent and revolt which
preceded the era of reform.
All through the month of January, when Saul would not spend his
Sundays at the farm, on account of the visits of young Farmer
Hewett, who was his especial aversion, he walked over to Pentreath
and passed several hours with the cobbler, whose acquaintance he
had made some time previously. At first the man’s talk had small
interest for him, but he had a natural thirst for information; and great
enthusiasm is like to kindle sparks in the minds of others, even when
at first there seems small sympathy between them. Almost in spite of
himself, Saul began to feel interested in the monologues and
diatribes of the bright-eyed little artisan, and whether or no he
agreed in his conclusions, he did come to have some notion of the
state of the country at this time, the abuses which reigned there in
many quarters, and the general sense amongst the people that
something had got to be done to remedy this state of affairs—or they
would know the reason why!
Thus it came about that when Saul first came into contact with
Eustace Marchmont, he was not in that state of blank ignorance
which was the usual attribute of the rustic of those parts, but had
been instructed, although in a one-sided and imperfect way, upon
the grievances of his class, and had, at least, been aroused to a
sense that the world was all wrong, whether or not he was to have a
hand in the setting of it to rights.
Eustace had seen Saul once or twice before he attempted to speak
with him. His fine presence always attracted attention, and in his
case the strong likeness to Abner gave him another mark of interest
for those who knew the elder man. Eustace would have tried to get
speech with him before, being impressed by the intelligence and
character of the face, but had been somewhat deterred from the fact
that he heard Abner had had the bringing up of the boy, and if so, he
felt he might not find there the sort of soil he wanted. He liked a talk
with the gardener at any time he could get him to engage in
conversation, but the two never agreed in their conclusions. Both
fully admitted the evils of the day and the need for reformation, but
how that reformation was to be effected they never could agree; and
although they parted friends, and had a warm esteem one for the
other, Eustace secretly wished that Tresithny either knew a little
more or a little less, and that his uncle did not possess a servant of
such strong and peculiar views, and with so much influence in the
place.
If Saul should prove to be a disciple of his grandfather’s, Eustace felt
that it would be time wasted to seek to win him to his own view of the
situation; whilst, on the other hand, if he could gain the young man
as a convert to the new gospel, such a recruit would be a great
power in his hand; for no one could look into Saul’s dark handsome
face, and note the development of brow and head, without being
certain that he possessed intelligence beyond the wont of his
fellows, and force of character, which went farther in such a cause
than keenness of wits.
But though Eustace often tried to get speech with the young man in
a casual and incidental way, he never succeeded in doing so. He
went to the farm from time to time and made himself pleasant to the
farmer and his family. He walked about the place, and chatted as
occasion served with the broad-faced, soft-spoken labourers, who
grinned at any small sally he might make, and looked bland, though
deferential, if he spoke of matters beyond their ken, as he had a way
of doing tentatively, although with an object in view. He began to be
talked of as a man with something in his head that was quite
unfathomable. All agreed that he was an affable young gentleman,
and well-spoken and friendly; but the rustics were shy of him
nevertheless, and his chief friends were made amongst the bold and
lawless fisher and smuggling folks down in the cluster of hovels
beneath the shelter of the cliff. They were more or less at war with
the law as it was—at least with the excise laws, which were the only
ones about which they knew or cared a halfpenny; and it was easy to
convince them that there was something rotten in the present system
of administering the law generally, and that the people must combine
to insist on a reformation. But even whilst winning grunts and snorts
of approval from these rough fellows, Eustace felt that his mind and
theirs were really poles asunder, and that the lawlessness they
looked upon as the embodiment of welfare and happiness was an
altogether different thing from that beautiful justice, law, and order
which he strove to believe was to come into the world when his
doctrines had leavened and fermented and taken shape. Sometimes
he was almost disheartened with his want of success, wondering
whether this doctrine of discontent were a wise one to instil into the
minds of these wild, fierce fisher-folk. Some of the conclusions they
drew from his teaching startled him not a little, as when one of them
remarked that, since the great folks were so tyrannical and wicked
and selfish, it would be no more that right and a just judgment to lure
them to their death by false lights some stormy night, that their
goods might fall a prey to the suffering poor; and this savage
suggestion was hailed with such enthusiasm that Eustace was
sternly horrified, and spoke with terse eloquence against any such
wickedness, only to find, as other teachers and orators have found
before him, that though it was easy to convince men of the truth of a
doctrine towards which they were predisposed, it was altogether
another matter to hinder them from deductions altogether false, and
foreign to the matter in hand, when these also were to their liking;
and that they were far less patient in listening to words that opposed
these deductions than they had been to those which suggested
them.
It was after some such experiences as these that Eustace had left
the fishermen and striven to win the friendship of the rustics, but had
been met by the placid stolidity and uncomprehending ignorance
which seemed to form almost as absolute a barrier between them as
the lack of reason and speech in brute beasts. Indeed, they and their
sheep and oxen seemed to understand each other better than he
and the labouring men upon the land. It was discouraging and uphill
work from first to last; and the one man whom he really desired to
gain, and felt certain possessed the stamp of mind and the
intelligence he longed to meet, avoided him with a persistence which
led him to the conclusion at last that Tresithny had warned his
grandson to have no dealings with the gentleman from the castle.
But accident led at last to a meeting, and from that meeting dated
the train of circumstances which led to a strange but lasting
friendship between the two men whose walks in life lay so widely
apart.
Eustace was out upon the downs riding a mettlesome young horse
from the Duke’s stable. He was a fearless horseman, but not an
experienced one. During the years he had spent in travel and in
Germany, horse exercise had not come much in his way, save as a
means of locomotion, and then the animals ridden had not been of a
fiery kind. He had a firm seat and a steady hand, but he was by no
means familiar with the tricks of a flighty young mare, when the
spring of the year sets the hot blood of all young things stirring
joyously in their veins, and incites them to all sorts of vagaries and
extravagant gambols. Eustace was possessed with the master-mind
that must always gain the upper hand of any creature under his
control; and perhaps he was a thought too stern in his desire after
discipline; for in lieu of indulging the wild spirits of his steed with a
healthy gallop over the short elastic turf, which might soon have
reduced her to quietness and submission, he held her with a strong
firm hand, resolved that he and he alone would decide the time when
her limbs should be allowed to stretch themselves as they longed to
do;—with the effect that the beautiful, high-spirited creature, fretted
beyond the limits of endurance, commenced to buck-jump with such
alarming persistence and velocity, that Eustace was at last unseated,
and measured his length ignominiously upon the short turf, whilst his
horse, tossing her dainty head with a gesture of visible triumph, set
off at a mad gallop straight across the green down, which she hardly
seemed to touch with her feet.
Eustace was not hurt. He had kicked his feet free of the stirrups
before he slipped off, and the ground was soft. The mare had
avoided touching him with her feet as she sped off, and, save for the
humiliation of the fall, and the fear lest the horse should be hurt,
Eustace cared little for the accident. He could no longer see the
flying steed. The ridge of swelling down hid her from him; but he
picked himself up and wondered what he should do next, and
whether the creature would find her way home or should be pursued,
for she had not headed for her stable, but had gone tearing away
over the green turf in a diagonal direction. Brushing the traces of his
accident from his clothes, Eustace slowly mounted the low ridge, and
then to his relief saw a horseman cantering towards him up the
opposite side. A second glance told him that the horseman was none
other than Saul Tresithny, and that he was mounted upon the
runaway mare, whom he had evidently captured before she had had
time to do herself a mischief.
Two minutes later Saul had come to a standstill beside him, and was
on his own feet in a twinkling.
“I hope you are not hurt, sir,” he said shortly.
“Not at all, thank you—only humiliated. I did not mean to let her have
her own way, but she took it in spite of me. How did you manage to
catch her? And how come you to be so good a rider? You manage
her far better than I do.”
“I broke her in, you see, sir,” answered Saul, who was stroking the
glossy foam-flecked neck of the beautiful creature, whilst she
dropped her nose into his palm, and was evincing every sign of
satisfaction in the meeting. “His Grace bought her from Farmer
Teazel. She was bred on these downs, and I had the breaking of her.
She’ll make a capital hunter one of these days; but it’s not every
rider she’ll let mount her, nor yet keep mounted when once they’ve
been on her back. She’ll give you some trouble, I expect, sir, the next
time you try to ride her. But Lady Bride can guide her with a silken
thread. She took to her ladyship from the first moment she mounted
her.”
“And she seems to take to you too. I think your name is Tresithny,
isn’t it? You are grandson to the gardener at the castle?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Saul, and said no more, holding the stirrup for
Eustace to mount, but without anything the least servile or
obsequious in his attitude. The young man noted also in his speech
the absence of the vernacular peculiarities that characterised all the
ordinary rustics of the place. Saul’s voice was soft, and his speech
had an intonation that bespoke him a native of these parts, but that
was all. Just as it was with the grandfather, so it was with the
grandson: they could put off the dialect when they chose, and use it
when they chose. Abner had early taught his young charge the same
purity of diction as he had acquired himself, and in speaking to his
superiors Saul adopted it naturally.
“I don’t think I’ll ride again just yet, thanks,” said Eustace, with his
frank and pleasant smile. “If you don’t object, I’ll walk your way,
Tresithny. I’ve often wanted to talk with you, but I’ve never had the
opportunity before.”
Saul’s face was not responsive; but he was too well trained to refuse
to lead the horse for the gentleman when asked, and after all it was
not so very far back to his work, where he must of necessity shake
off this undesirable companion.
“I want to speak to you, Tresithny, about the cause which (in addition
to the death of the Duchess) brought me just now into these parts.
You know of course that, in the natural order of things, I shall one
day be master here. It is not a position I covet. I hold that there is
great injustice in making one man ruler and owner of half a county
perhaps, and of huge revenues, holding vast powers in his hand
whether he be capable or not of ruling wisely and well—simply from
an accident of birth, whilst hundreds and thousands of his fellow-
men are plunged in untold misery, and vice that is the outcome of
that undeserved misery. I believe myself that the whole system of the
country is rotten and corrupt, and that the day has come when a new
and better era will dawn upon the world. But meantime, in the
present, I have to look forward to succeeding his Grace, and I am
naturally very greatly interested in the people of this place, and
intensely anxious to see them elevated and ennobled.”
Saul suddenly looked at the young man as he had never looked at
him before, and said between his teeth—
“That’s a strange thing for you to say, sir.”
“Why strange?” asked Eustace, half guessing the answer,
“Because, sir, if once the people begin to think for themselves, to see
for themselves, and to understand the meaning of things around
them, they soon won’t stand what they see—won’t stand that one set
of men in the country should have everything, and roll in wealth and
wallow in luxury, whilst they can’t get bread to put in their children’s
mouths. They’ll think it’s time their turn came—as they did in France,
I’ve heard, not so very long ago, and that’ll be a bad day for you and
for all those like you.”
“Yes,” answered Eustace, with emphasis, “such a bad day for us,
and (if that form of revolution were repeated) such a bad day for
England too—ay, and for you, Tresithny, and your class—that we
men who recognise and deplore the injustice and tyranny of the
present system are resolved to try and prevent it by making the
people’s cause ours, and ridding them of their grievous wrongs
before they shall have been goaded to madness and rise in ignorant
savagery, and become butchers and not reformers. The French
Revolution turned France into a veritable hell upon earth. What we
are striving to accomplish is to bring a day of peace and plenty, and
justice and happiness upon England, without the shedding of one
drop of blood, without any but gentle measures, and the increase of
confidence and goodwill between class and class.”
“And do you think you are going to do it?” asked Saul, with a grim
look about his mouth, which Eustace did not altogether understand.
“I think so—I trust so. Earnest and devoted men of every class are
banded together with that object. But, Tresithny, we want the help of
the people. We want the help of such as you. What is the use of our
striving to give their rights to the people if they remain in stolid
apathy and do not ask for them? We must awaken and arouse them;
we must teach them discontent with their present state of misery and
ignorance, and then open the way for them to escape from it. Do you
understand at all what I mean? We must awaken and arouse them.
They are—in this part of the world, at least—like men sleeping an
unnatural drugged sleep. The poison of ignorance and apathy is like
opium in its effects upon their spirits. We must awaken and arouse
them before there is hope for cure. Tresithny, we want men of
intelligence like you to help in this work. You know their ways and
their thoughts. You can appeal to their slumbering senses far better
than we can do. We want to interest those who live with them and
amongst them, and whose language they understand as they cannot
understand ours. There is a great work to be accomplished by such
as you, Tresithny, if you will but join the good cause.”
Saul was roused by a style of talk for which much of his recent
brooding had prepared the way, and made a reply which showed
Eustace that here at least there was no impassable barrier of
ignorance or apathy to be overcome. In ten minutes’ time the men
were in earnest talk, Eustace giving his companion a masterly
summary of the state of parties and the feeling of the day (vastly
different from anything he had heard before, and before which his
mental horizon seemed to widen momentarily), and he joining in with
question and retort so apt and pointed, that Eustace was more and
more delighted with his recruit, and felt that to gain such a man as
Saul Tresithny to his side would be half the battle in St. Bride’s.
But even here he could not achieve quite the success he coveted.
He could implant the gospel of discontent easily enough—the soil
was just of the kind in which the plant would take ready root; but with
that other side of the doctrine—that endeavour to make men
distinguish between the abuses, and the men who had hitherto
appeared to profit by them—ay, there was the rub!
“You speak, sir, sometimes of doing all this without making the
people hate their tyrants and their oppressors; but that isn’t human
nature. If they’ve a battle to fight against those that hold the power
now, and if they are stirred up to fight it, they will hate them with a
deadly hatred; and even when the victory is ours, as you say it will
and must be one day, the hatred will go on and on. It’s in our blood,
and it’ll be there till the world’s end. We may forget it whilst we’re
sleeping; but once you and the like of you wake us up, it won’t sleep
again in a hurry; no, and it shall not either!” And the young man
raised his arm and shook his fist in the air with a wild gesture, as
though hurling defiance at the whole world.
“Ah! Tresithny, that is a natural feeling at the outset; and although we
regret it, we cannot wonder at it, nor try to put it down with too strong
a hand. But it is not the right feeling—and the right one will prevail at
last, as I fully hope and trust. When we are boys at school and under
restraint, against which we kick and fret, we look upon our masters
as natural enemies; yet as we grow to manhood and meet them
again, they become valued friends, and we laugh together over
former animosities. And so it will be when the great work of reform is
carried out in the generous spirit that we strive to instil; and you
amongst others will be the first to hold out the hand of fellowship to
all men, when wrongs have been righted, and society has come forth
purified and ennobled by the struggle.”
“Never!” cried Saul, with a look of such concentrated hatred that
Eustace was startled. “You may talk till you are black in the face, sir,
but you’ll never talk out the hatred that is inborn between class and
class. I know what that is. I am a man of the people, and for the
rights of the people I am ready to live and to die. But I hate the
race of tyrants and oppressors. I hate, and shall always hate
and loathe them. Do not talk to me of goodwill and friendship. I will
have none of it. I would set up a gallows over yonder, if I had my
way, and hang every noble of the land upon it—as the French set up
their guillotine, and set the heads of the king and queen and nobles
of the land rolling from it!”
This was not by any means the spirit Eustace had desired to kindle
in his disciple; but, after all, might not such sentiments be but the
natural ebullition of enthusiasm in one who was young, untrained,
and ardent? Certainly it was preferable in his eyes to apathy, and he
was not disposed to strain the relations newly set up between them
by opposing such sanguinary statements.
“The wrongs of humanity do indeed set up a strong sense of
righteous indignation,” he said quietly; “but, believe me, the fierce
and sanguinary revolutions of history have not had half the lasting
effects of the bloodless ones accomplished by nations within
themselves, by the accord of all classes concerned. That is what we
are now bent upon striving to accomplish. We want your help,
Tresithny, but not all the bloodthirsty eagerness you are disposed to
give us. You must temper your zeal with discretion. Have you any
personal cause to hate the so-called upper classes as you do?”
The young man’s face was so dark and stern that Eustace almost
repented of his question.
“Have I?—have I? Have I not, indeed! The upper classes! Ay,
indeed, they are well called! Oh, can I but help to hurl them down to
the dust, my life will not have been lived for nothing!”
Eustace looked earnestly at him.
“Can you not tell me what you mean, Tresithny? Believe me, I would
be your friend, if you would permit it. I have seen no one since I
came here in whom I take so warm an interest.”
There was this about Eustace that always made him popular
wherever he went, and that was his perfect sincerity. When he spoke
words like these, it was obvious that he meant them, and those
whom he addressed felt this by instinct. Saul did so, and the fierce
darkness died out of his face. He turned and looked into Eustace’s
eyes, and Eustace returned the glance steadily, holding out his hand
as he did so.
“I mean what I say, Tresithny,” he said, with a smile. “If you will have
me for a friend, I will be worthy of your confidence.”
And then Saul, by a sudden impulse, put his hand into that of the
Duke of Penarvon’s heir, and the compact was sealed.
“I will tell you my story, or rather my mother’s story,” he said, after a
few moments of silence, “and then perhaps you will understand what
I have said. It is common enough—too common, perhaps, to interest
you; but to me it can never become common. My grandfather was
gardener to the Duke. He had a loving wife, and one daughter, whom
they both loved as the apple of their eye. When she was old enough
to do something for herself, she was taken into the castle and rose to
be second maid to her Grace, who was always very kind to her
attendants, and took pains that the girl should be taught many things
that would be of value to her as she grew up in life. There was plenty
of fine company at the castle then: it was before Lady Bride was
born, and her Grace’s health gave way. Of course I cannot tell what
went on; but a day came when my mother disappeared from St.
Bride, and none knew where she had gone. It killed her mother, for
there was no manner of doubt but that she had been persuaded to
go with or after one of the fine gentlemen who had been visiting
there.”
“Or one of their servants,” suggested Eustace, very quietly.
For a moment Saul paused, as though such an idea had never
entered his head before, as indeed it never had done. He had heard
very little of his young mother’s mournful tale, but he had always
believed that she left her parents for the protection of one of the
Duke’s fine popinjay friends.
“I don’t know,” he answered sullenly, “but they all said it was a
certain gentleman. She broke her father’s heart, and killed her
mother, and came back at the end of a year to die herself. She could
never tell her story—or would not—whether or not she had been
betrayed. That we shall never know; but she left me behind her to
my grandfather’s care, and I have grown up knowing all. I never
would enter the castle as servant. I never would, and I never will. I
will carry my enmity to your class, sir, to my life’s end, and I will fight
against it with might and main, and with all the powers that I have. I
have taken your hand in friendship, because I see you mean well by
us, and because I cannot help it; but I will never do so a second
time. I will not make a second friend of one above me in rank. I will
keep the right to fight against them and to hate—hate—hate them—
and not all your honeyed pleadings can change that. Now I have told
you all, and you can choose whether you will have me or not; for it
will be war to the death when I fight, and you may as well know it first
as last!”
Eustace smiled at the vehemence of his disciple as he said quietly—
“We will have you, Saul, hatred and all. You are too useful a tool to
be spared because your edge is over sharp.”
And thus the compact was sealed between them.
 CHAPTER VII
THE KINDLED SPARK
“I DON’T approve of it,” said the Duke, bringing his hand down upon
the table with an emphasis that made all the glasses on it ring. “You
may talk as you will, Eustace; you may mix argument with sophistry
as much as you like, but you’ll never make black white by all the
rhetoric of the world. I don’t like it. I don’t like the whole movement,
and I don’t believe that good will ever come of it; but leaving alone
that point, on which we shall never agree, I hold that your methods
are vile and hateful. You are setting class against class; you are
rousing ill-will and stirring up hatred and enmity; you are teaching
men to be discontented with their position in life——”
“Yes, sir, I know I am, because they ought to be discontented with
degradation, ignorance, and hopeless misery. There is no reason
why it should continue and increase as it does. We want them to be
disgusted and discontented with it. Would there ever have been any
civilisation and culture in the world had men always been contented
to remain exactly in the position in which they were born?”
“Don’t talk your stump-orator nonsense to me,” said the old Duke
sternly. “Confusion of terms does all very well to blind and deceive
an ignorant mob; but keep it for them, and don’t try to advance your
flimsy arguments by using it to men who can think and reason. The
gradual growth of science and art and learning—the building on and
on from an original foundation as the mental horizon extends—is
generically different from the aimless discontent and selfish desire to
rob and plunder, which is the outcome of the vaunted discontent you
wish to inspire in the breasts of the people; and you know it as well
as I do. You may keep that sort of talk for those who cannot see
through it, and answer the fool according to his folly. But when you
have men to deal with, and not ignorant children, you must think of
sounder arguments if you desire to be listened to patiently.”
Eustace flushed rather hotly at the taunt, which was hardly deserved
in his case, although he was aware that his cause—like too many
others—was promoted by means of arguments which could be torn
to shreds by any shrewd thinker. But for all that, he had a profound
belief in the gospel of discontent as the most powerful factor in the
world’s history, and he used it with a genuine belief in it, not with the
desire to promote confusion in the minds of his hearers. But he did
not reply to his kinsman’s sharp retort, and after a brief pause the
Duke recommenced his former diatribe.
“I have been patient with you, Eustace. I recognise fully your position
here, and that you have a certain latitude with regard to the people
which would be accorded to no one else; but——”
“Indeed, uncle, I hope you do not think I have presumed upon that,”
cried Eustace, with almost boyish eagerness, and a sidelong look at
Bride, who was leaning back in her chair, a silent but watchful
spectator of the little drama, and a keenly interested listener to the
frequent arguments and dialogues which passed after dinner
between her father and her cousin. It had become a regular custom
with them to discuss the questions of the day during the hour they
passed at the exit of the servants and the advent of dessert. Neither
of them were drinkers of wine, but both were accomplished talkers;
and Bride, though seldom speaking, had come to take a keen
interest in these discussions, which were adding to her store of facts,
and admitting her to regions of debate which had hitherto been
sealed to her. She was not ignorant of the events passing in the
world. She had read the newspapers to her mother too regularly for
that; but naturally she had not seen those organs of the press which
advocated the new and more liberal ideas coming then into vogue;
and many of her cousin’s harrowing pictures of the fearful miseries of
certain classes of the community haunted her with terrible
persistency, and awakened within her an impotent longing to be able
to do something to rescue them from such degradation and misery.
Her father, too, listened to Eustace with a moderation and patience
which surprised her not a little, since up till the present time the very
name of Radical filled him with disgust, and provoked him to an
outbreak of scornful anger. If Eustace did not openly proclaim
himself one of this party, he was advocating every principle of reform
with all the ardour of one; and yet, until the present moment, the
Duke had heard him expound his views, and had answered his
arguments with considerable patience, and often with a certain
amount of sympathy. To-day, however, the atmosphere was more
stormy. Something had occurred to raise the displeasure of the old
man, and soon it became apparent what the grievance was.
“I do not accuse you of presuming upon that,” he said, still speaking
sternly—“not intentionally, at any rate; but you do wrong in being led
blindfold by your youthful and headstrong passions, and by teaching
others to follow in your wake, without your substratum of sense and
moderation. That young Tresithny has been openly teaching the
people in St. Erme’s and St. Bride’s to set law and order at defiance,
and if necessary to avenge their so-called ‘wrongs’ at the sword’s
point. He is collecting a regular following in the place, and there will
be mischief here before long if things go on at this rate. On inquiry I
found, of course, that he has been seen frequently in conversation
with you, Eustace. Of course the inference is plain. You are teaching
him your views, and trying to make a demagogue and stump-orator
of him, with apparently only too much success. And he is just the
type of man to be most dangerous if he is once aroused, as you may
find to your cost one of these days, Eustace.”
“Most dangerous—or most useful—which is it?” questioned Eustace
thoughtfully; yet, remembering some of the words and looks that had
escaped Saul during their conversations, he could hardly have
answered that question himself.
“From whom have you heard this?” he asked. Eustace had himself
been absent from the castle for a few days, spending his time in the
neighbourhood, but not returning to his kinsman’s house to sleep. He
had returned this day only, to find the Duke’s mood somewhat
changed, and he began now to suspect the cause of this.
“Mr. Tremodart is my informant,” answered the Duke briefly. “He will
give you any information on the subject that you desire. I shall say
no more. The subject is very distasteful and painful to me. I am well
aware that I am growing old, and that the world is changing around
me. I know perfectly that no power of mine will suffice to stem the
current, and I shall therefore refrain from futile efforts. But none the
less does it pain me that one bearing my name, and coming after me
when I am gone, should be one of the foremost to stir up strife and
set class against class, as you are doing, Eustace. And let me add
just one more word of warning. It is an easy thing to set a stone
rolling down a hill-side; but no man can foresee where it will stop
when once in motion, and no human power can stop it when once
the impetus is upon it. It will go hurtling down, carrying death and
destruction with it; and those who have set it in motion can simply
stand helplessly by, looking with dismay at the ruin they have
provoked. Beware how you set in motion the forces of anarchy,
Eustace, for Heaven alone knows what the end will be when that is
done!” and the old man rose from his seat and walked from the room
with a quiet and sorrowful dignity of aspect which struck and touched
both his hearers. It was so unusual for him to break through the
trifling ceremonial rules of life, that the very fact of his leaving the
table before his daughter had risen showed that he must be greatly
disturbed in mind. Bride looked after him with wistful eyes, and then
suddenly turned upon Eustace with an imploring air, which was
harder still to resist.
“You will not go on grieving him, Eustace!” she pleaded; “you will
give it up?”
“Give what up, Bride?” he asked quietly.
“The actions which grieve him, which stir up strife in our peaceful
community, which rouse hatred and foment discontent. Ah! Eustace,
if you would only give yourself to a nobler task, how much you might
do for the cause of right!—whilst now you are, in the hope of doing
good, fomenting the worst passions of the human heart, and leading
men to break not only the laws of man, but those of God.”
Perhaps never before had Eustace been so strongly tempted as at
that moment to abandon the cause to which he was pledged.
Through all the weeks he had spent beneath the roof of Castle
Penarvon, he had been conscious of two strong influences working
upon him—one the desire to enkindle in the minds of the ignorant